


Baked

by dietplainlite



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Femslash, First Kiss, Marijuana, sherlock fics without sherlock, special brownies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Hudson invites Sally over to help make some brownies. The afternoon exceeds Sally's expectations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baked

Sally Donovan’s first thought when Martha Hudson ushered her into her flat was that the clean, cozy interior seemed miles away, not just one floor down, from the chaos of the upper flat. 

Her second thought was to wonder about the somewhat pungent, familiar odor emanating from a sauce pan on the range. 

“Well don’t just stand there, dear,” Mrs. Hudson said, handing Sally an apron.  “Wash your hands and start chopping those walnuts.  Oh, you’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” Sally said.  She hung her coat on a hook and peered into the sauce pan, which contained a large amount of melted butter.  It had a rather greenish tint with speckles of what might look like oregano to the untrained eye.

“Er.  Is this what I think it is?  You just said we’d be baking brownies.”

“I am.”

“I really shouldn’t be here.”

“I distinctly said I’d be making my special brownies, Sally.  Surely you know what that means.”

“I just thought it was a special recipe! All old ladies have a special recipe.” Sally looked around the kitchen.  There was enough flour and cocoa and eggs for at least six batches.  “Mrs. Hudson, this seems like a lot for one person. I could arrest you, you know.  For possession and intent to distribute.”

“Don’t you Mrs. Hudson me, Sally. I know you have bigger fish to fry than a little old lady and her friends.  Mrs. Turner next door has glaucoma and one of her tenants is in chemo and all of my bridge club friends have arthritis. It’s much better for you than smoking and lasts longer.”

The doorbell rang before Sally could answer.  Mrs. Hudson nudged Sally aside with her hip and opened the door to Molly Hooper. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Molly said as she hung up her jacket.  “I got stuck at work.  You know how it—Oh!”  Molly’s froze, mouth dropping open when she spotted Sally.  She looked from the sergeant to Mrs. Hudson and back. 

“Oh it’s okay, dear.  Sally is helping us today since Janaki couldn’t make it.”

 “Janaki, the lab tech?” Sally said at the same time that Molly whispered “Mrs. Hudson!” through gritted teeth.

“Stop fussing, you two and get to work.  Sally’s not going to tell and it’ll just mean I’ll owe her a favor later, won’t it?”

Sally sighed and went to wash her hands.  The lemon scented soap was the same her Granny used, and she even had the same blue and white striped tea towel hanging by the sink.  Molly put her hair in a ponytail and washed up as well, scrubbing her little hands thoroughly all the way to the elbow and even using the little nail brush that sat in a dish by the faucet. She turned off the tap with her elbow and used kitchen roll instead of the towel to dry up.

“Everything okay?” Molly said, smiling and wringing her hands. 

  “Yeah!  Fine,” she said brightly, her cheeks growing hot. “Mrs. Hudson which knife should I use?”

As Sally set about chopping several pounds of walnuts, Mrs. Hudson had Molly begin straining the butter through a cheese cloth.  Again Sally found herself mesmerized by the precise movements of the pathologist’s glove clad hands. 

“You’ve done this a few times, then?” 

Molly’s cheeks turned rosy and she ducked her head. “Once a month.  For a while actually.”  She looked up quickly.  “I don’t partake, though.  I just help.”

Sally grinned.  “It’s okay, Molly.”  She chopped in silence for a few moments.  “You’re tempted, though, right?”

“Well,” she replied as she shoved the sodden marijuana down the garbage disposal.  “I actually always preferred smoking.  Eating it was always too intense.”

“I can’t handle the smoke anymore,” Mrs. Hudson chimed in.  “And it lasts longer this way.  Looks like we’re all ready.”  She took the bowl of butter from Molly and the walnuts from Sally. 

Even though they were ostensibly there to help, Molly and Sally spent the next ten minutes watching Mrs. Hudson measure and weigh and combine ingredients.  She begrudgingly let Sally pour in the walnuts, but drew the line at letting them stir, saying they would over mix it and they’d end up with dry brownies.

Once the batter had been scraped into the last baking dish, Mrs. Hudson handed the younger women the bowl and wooden spoon.  Sally trudge to the sink.

“Sally Donovan what do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t you want me to do the washing up?”

“In a bit, dear.  But I thought you and Molly would want to lick the bowl.”

“Mrs. Hudson—“ Molly began.

“Well, Janaki always does and I thought she was just being greedy. “

“No, Mrs. Hudson.  Janaki eats it all because I don’t want any.  And Sally really can’t.”

Sally looked down at the bowl.  Mrs. Hudson had left a generous amount of batter on the bottom and on the sides.  The aroma of chocolate and weed brought her back to a time when the only book she had to go by was whatever fantasy novel she was engrossed in.  To summers when she could spend entire paychecks from her part time job on weed and fast food.

“Fuck it,” she said, and ran her finger around the inside rim.  Molly’s eyes grew huge and Mrs. Hudson smiled as Sally licked the batter off.  God she’d always loved how the weed mitigated the sweetness of the chocolate.  She set the bowl on the table and pushed it toward Molly. 

The pathologist looked at the bowl for a moment before her mouth turned up wryly.  “Sod it,” she said.  “I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

\------

All six batches of brownies lay cooling in their pans on Mrs. Hudson’s counter while Sally and Molly lay on the living room floor, listening to an orchestral arrangement of _The White Album_ on vinyl.  Their hostess had gone to her room for a nap, having sampled a large piece of the first batch to come out of the oven. 

“It’s just such bullshit,” Molly said.  “How fast they get toxicology results back.  And don’t get me started on the rape kits.  How they process those in what, a day?  And they have the rapist behind bars within weeks?” 

“Yes!” Sally said.  “Do you know how big the backlog is of unprocessed rape kits at the Met?  Christ.  Of course you do.  But fuck, yes.” 

“And like, you never see them dealing with paper work.  I think half my life is paper work. And the other half is corpses.  Corpses and paperwork.  No wonder I’m single again.”

“Try having to do your paper work and half your boss’s. Do you want some water?  Why the fuck is my mouth so dry if we didn’t even smoke?”

“Cannabis activates the sympathetic nervous system preferentially over the parasympathetic, impeding saliva production.  It’s a side effect of the drug itself not the method of ingestion,” Molly said.  “And yes I’d love some water.”

Sally managed to only get briefly distracted by her reflection in Mrs. Hudson’s rather ancient kettle before returning to the living room with two large glasses of water.  Molly sat up and leaned against the sofa, accepting the water and downing half of it before taking a breath.  She burped magnificently and giggled.

“Thank you,” she said.  She wiped her mouth delicately and placed the glass very carefully on the coffee table, lining the coaster up precisely with the edge.

Sally sat down next to her and stretched, reaching her arms up over her head and exhaling.  She hadn’t been this gloriously relaxed in so long. Her muscles were so loose they ached from the release of tension.

“I forgot how much I prefer this to drinking. Why is it illegal again?”

Molly shrugged and giggled into her hand.  “We should write a strongly worded letter to Parliament.”   

“Include something about the price of Freddos.”

“I think that’s asking too much,” Molly said. 

Sally looked toward the kitchen. “Does she have anything to eat that isn’t laced with weed you think?”

“She’s a little old lady. Of course she does. Biscuits and four kinds of jam and two kinds of cake and everything for sandwiches. ”

“We should totally order Chinese, though, yeah?”

Molly groaned.  “That would be fantastic, but no one will deliver here anymore.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I would never kid about takeaway, Sally.”

Sally burst out laughing at Molly’s expression, both mournful and furious. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what’s so funny?” 

“You’re just really…adorable,” Sally said.

 Molly’s mouth quivered as she suppressed a smile.  “I am, a little, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely,” Sally said with a nod, then leaned in and kissed her. 

Molly gave a small whimper of surprise before relaxing into it and placing her cool little hand on Sally’s neck.  She parted her surprisingly plump lips and took Sally’s bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a gentle tug before pulling back. 

“Sorry,” Sally whispered, though she couldn’t bring herself to look away.  Even with bloodshot, squinty eyes she was lovely.

“Don’t be,” Molly said, shaking her head.  She leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of Sally’s mouth, on the tip of her nose, and finally on her lips.  “So,” she said, “I may be able to convince this one Indonesian place to deliver if I tell them he’s out of the country and promise an absolutely indecent tip.”

In response, Sally’s stomach growled, and both women laughed.  Molly got up to get her phone from her coat pocket. 

“You’re vegetarian, right?” Molly called from the kitchen.

“Oh. How did—yeah,” Sally said. 

“Their tofu is great. I’m a huge carnivore but I prefer it to their chicken.”  Molly appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jamb as she scrolled through her phone.  “And if this doesn’t work, I’ll pop up to Speedy’s. “

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll go with you.”

“You have more to lose being seen in public stoned” she said as she dialed. “Besides, when we go out to dinner I want you to take me somewhere proper.”

“Molly are you—“

Molly held up her finger and winked before she returned to the kitchen.  “Yes, I’d like to place a delivery order.  Erm, 221A Baker Street.  Yes.  _A_. Well, about that….”

As Molly’s voice faded down the hall toward Mrs. Hudson’s room, Sally sat with her knees pulled up to her chin, half smiling and heart racing.

She smiled and wiggled her toes into the shag carpet.  “Somewhere proper.”


End file.
